


You Are Done, My Wayward Son

by CheshireMoon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Ficlet, Not Fluff, how it ends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 10:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1301734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireMoon/pseuds/CheshireMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchester's final battle has come and gone, but only Dean came away from it alive.  Castiel was forced away from his charge to rebuild Heaven, but he never did stop watching.  Life carried on, and so did the Wayward Son, but now it's time for him to go home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are Done, My Wayward Son

**Author's Note:**

> You are done, my wayward son.   
> There is peace 'cause you are done.   
> Lay your weary head to rest, don't you fight no more.

He was finally done. Dean knew that no God would swoop in to bring him back this time, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He'd lost Sammy, and Castiel had been gone for far too long. It had just been him for what had seemed like an ageless eternity, and Dean was tired.  He'd been fighting his whole life through, losing every person he loved as he traveled along.  He simply had no fight left in him.   
He turned on his side, and the wall beside him seemed distant and blurry despite its closeness. He laid there, still and silent, stirring only when he swore that he heard the strains of the familiar tune "Hey Jude," in an almost long-forgotten voice.

"Don't carry the whole world upon your shoulder," his mother sang to him, cradling him close as she did when he was just a child.  He turned his head and she was there, her willowy golden hair framing her pale and ever-beautiful face.

"You have done so well, Dean. I could never be prouder of you, I could never love you more."  The words eased a knot in his chest, her soft voice like ice on a burn that he didn't remember having. He blinked slowly, tears forming in his eyes as he drew a rattling breath.  When he opened his eyes again, she was gone, replaced by another.

"Hello, Dean." Dean's failing heart stuttered at the familiar baritone, the voice that had always meant safety, that had always meant loyalty even in the darkest times in their tangled past. The trench coat, the thin wiry frame, the ethereal blue eyes. Castiel was still as beautiful as Dean remembered from years before. Cas leaned forward and let his fingers trail across Dean's time-worn skin.

"Cas," Dean choked out in a tone that could only be interpreted as happiness. 

"How you have aged, Dean..." Cas murmured, his brows pulling together. His hand slid from Dean's face, down to his chest.  The blue eyes slid closed for a time, and a small smile pulled at Castiel's lips.  
"And yet your soul still shines as brightly and warmly as when last I saw you.  My Grace is still there as well." Cas's face flickered with an emotion that Dean was too fatigued to interpret. He was so tired, it was getting harder and harder to open his eyes again after each heavy blink, harder to clear the tears out of his time-weakened eyes.  And yet, the mossy green eyes still shone with the life that Castiel had come to love after he had already learned to love the tattered soul he had pulled out of Hell some sixty odd years before. 

"I have missed you so, Dean. And now it is time for you to come home." Dean's eyes slid closed, and he felt a strength he had not known in many years flood into his limbs.

"Come along Dean, Sam is waiting for you. He said that the fireworks look lovely right now." Dean lifted himself out of his old, worn body and found himself standing beside Castiel, young and strong and lithe again.  A smile split Castiel's face and he offered his hand, which Dean took without hesitation, twining his fingers with his angel's. 

"Cas, your wings," Dean said quietly, in awe. He could see them. The feathers were every hue of black imaginable, tints of blue streaking through the primaries.  

"You are beyond human restrictions now. These eyes can see much more than those." Cas motioned towards Dean's now motionless body. Dean looked down at himself, at the frail limbs and the face torn asunder by a lifetime of hardships and grief and too much loss and pain.  He couldn't help but stare and wonder how he had dragged himself along for so long when he was so obviously broken.  His throat grew thick with sorrow, but his head cleared when Castiel gave his hand a little squeeze.

"Sam is waiting, Dean. He has been waiting for a long time." The words stirred Dean back into motion and he looked back to his angel and nodded, ready.  

Unable to help himself, he grinned and joked, "I don't suppose Baby is waiting for me too?" Cas simply smiled softly as the room dissolved from around them, becoming the colours of fireworks, the sound of his long-lost brother's exalted cry of joy and the sight of the always beloved Impala.

 

 

 


End file.
